


Gin&Oranges

by Maryassassina



Category: Salem (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angels, Demons, F/M, Sorry Not Sorry, The Sentinel deserves much more love, and this is mainly a love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-03-10 18:58:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maryassassina/pseuds/Maryassassina
Summary: John Alden believes he annihilated the Sentinel with the help of the magic dagger, but demons are not so easily killed. And sometimes, the only way to cast out devils is through Beelzebub.Set after S3/08.





	1. The Lord of the Flies

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Salem season 3 but practically a shameless homage to my favourite character on the show. Apologies for taking liberties with the other characters, having only watched season 3 until episode 8.

_Wednesday_

 

It was a cool, unpleasant afternoon, with a tenacious mist hanging heavily over the crowns of the trees like an ominous foreboding of things to come.

And was it any wonder, I thought as I made my way through the wet undergrowth in search of dry wood for a fire, when what awaited us in only a few days' time was nothing less than the end of the world as we knew it.

They had tried to stop it, the hive had, but they had failed. The boy was still alive and had returned to Salem to finish his evil plan.

Dead, all of them, and for nothing.

I should have died with them, I thought bitterly. Died with you, mother. But I had not been allowed to take part in the Great Sacrifice, I had not yet taken my vows, had not yet been really one of them.

_And now I will never be_.

And neither would my sister, but as usual, Julie was God- knows- where, most likely right now seeking consolation in the arms of her current lover- a consolation he would not offer, if he knew what she was. But my sister had never bothered to cultivate the powers we had both inheritated by blood, other than for things, that would make her life more comfortable. She was way more interested in pretty things than in magic, loved dresses, jewelry and well- men and granted, she didn't need magical help to get any man she wanted.I could almost hear her mocking voice laughing in my ear as I trudged gloomily through the damp grass: " _So, if this is the end of the world, I better try to have all the fun I can , don't I_?"

So, with father long dead, and now mother as well, and my sister busy with bedroom sports, the chores were once more left to me. There would be no soup without hot water. No hot water without a fire. And no fire without firewood.

I sighed and plodded on, dragging my unwieldy wooden cart behind me. The woods continued to seem empty, still and oddly lifeless and I found myself softly singing the old children's rhyme against the uncomfortable silence around me.

 

_Married on Wednesday._

_Bedded on Thursday._

_Sickened on Friday._

_Died on Saturday._

_Buried on Sunday._

 

Only four days until Black Sunday.

 

After a while, as I was getting deeper into the woods, I began to sense a sudden shifting in the air. The mist seemed to be even thicker here, almost consuming what remained of the fading daylight and there was a strange, dissonant sound, very quiet at first, but alarming nonetheless after having been walking for a long time in almost unnatural silence. It sounded like a _hum_.

Not of a single insect, but of a whole swarm, still somewhat far from my current position, but clearly growing in volume when I maintained my course.

As I walked closer, there were scattered flies hurrying past my head now, too. Grimacing with disgust, I wiped them from my face. I didn't much like flies, never had, nor any other creatures with more than four legs, for that matter. But an anxient curiosity kept me moving towards the source of the sound.

When I finally reached my goal, the first thing I saw was a black mass in the grass beneath a huge willow tree like a mound of black earth. But it wasn't earth. It _moved_. The sound was very loud now, an angry humming of not only flies, but all kind of other insects as well, fat black bugs, wasps, centipedes and whatnot, covering something on the ground that must be a body, as I realized with a sudden pang of terror, some dead animal perhaps...however, as I carefully lurked closer, the corpse covered in insects didn't have the shape of an animal, but of...

A human. A rather big one.

Despite myself, I winced in disgust and fear and gave a small cry, and as I did, the roaring noise of the swarm increased to full volume, before they suddenly fell apart all at once, leaving me to a deafening silence- and to the exposed body of a stranger on the ground before me.

I swallowed hard and moved closer to examine him. I was sure I had never seen him before, for he was not the kind of man you would easily forget. Exceptionally tall, 6 foot 5 at least, and strongly built, his broad chest extensively covered with curly reddish hair as was his long boned skull. The man had long, strong arms and legs, big hands and feet and well- everything about him was considerably big, as I could tell without a doubt, for he was quite naked.

And quite dead.

Or was he? He must be, I thought, his skin was deathly pale, even for a redhead, and he had been covered with insects after all. But then, assuming they had been consuming him- and considering their huge number- he looked rather unharmed.

No, not unharmed, I had to correct myself when I looked him over with a suspicious frown, he had quite some severe bruises, but no insect had caused those. There were fresh stab wounds all over his body, and black and blue marks, and the right side of his face up to his eye was red like he had been burnt with embers or glowing coals. He looked every bit a victim of a violent crime, badly bashed-up and stabbed to death, but still- If those insects had had no intentions to eat him, why had they been there?

I gasped in shock when suddenly the scales fell from my eyes. I had never seen him before, true. No one in Salem had, except for the inhabitants of Sibley Manor and the extinguished members of the hive before the Great Sacrifice. But suddenly I knew for a fact who he had to be.

The brother of the boy, the Dark Lord, the very evil that had befallen this town, his second and most trusted servant, until he had turned against him and tried to help the hive to kill him. The one, whom they called the Sentinel.

Or also, the _lord of the flies_.

Well, it's probably a good thing that someone had sent him right back to hell, I thought grimly. It could be assumed, that his brother had killed him for his betrayal.

But then, his wounds told a different story. I reached out and cautiously ran my finger over the stab wound in his chest-and stopped dead in a sudden shock, which was caused by two equally strange sensations.

The first one was, that once I touched the wound, a face flashed up before my inner eye, the familiar face of a woman, banished from the hive some time ago. Unruly brown curls around a dark face, in which her milky-blue, blind eyes shone brightly. _Tituba._ The very witch, who had served the Dark Lord then and most likely still did in doing the dirty work for him as she used to. It seemed unlikely, that she would have been able to stab a big man as this- no, no man, I reminded herself, a _demon_ , an evil, unnatural thing, but the spell that forged the blade who killed him, bore her signature clear as day.

The second sensation, and no less disturbing than the first one, was that the skin under my fingers was warm to the touch, and more than that, there was clearly a heartbeat to be felt, weakly but steadily, and when I reached out for his throat to make sure, a low pulse throbbed against my shivering fingers.

Against all odds, the Sentinel was still _alive_ \- if barely. And nobody knew about it but me.

 

I sat back on my heels, panicking thoughts rushing through my head. I'd better walk home, forget what I had seen and leave him to his fate. After all, he was no angel- or rather, he _was_ , a fallen one, a demon, a vicious creature from hell, no better than the Dark Lord himself.

But then, he had helped them to destroy his brother before, and it was only for Tituba, that the boy had been able to return, for she had carried his limbs and stitched them together again. The same witch, who had evidently now tried to kill the Sentinel on his behalf.

He had helped them once and might do it again-might perhaps be the only one who even could.

Sighing, I made my decision.

I walked around the body, knelt down before him and lifted his shoulders on my knees in order to push my arms under his upper arms and lift him up. It was not an easy thing to do, for he was as heavy as he was tall and limp like a ragdoll. By the time I had managed to drag him to my cart I was bathed in sweat and had let out every curse I had ever learned. Of course, he was way too tall for my small cart, but that couldn't be helped. I covered the body perfuncorarily with deadwood and began to pull the cart homewards, with his long legs shuffling over the ground behind it. To any random passer-by, there would be no mistake about what I carried with me, but the woods remained as empty as they had been all afternoon and I made my way back to the cabin without meeting a single soul.

 

Where I dragged him behind me through the door like a sack of wet flour and heaved him on the big bed in the main room. I covered him with a blanket, before I all but collapsed next to him, panting with exhaustion.

Alright. What next?

A fire. Not for soup, though, I thought regretfully. I had to brew a healing potion.

I struggled to my feet and began to fetch water from the well in front of the house to fill the huge brass kettle and set it up to boil.

Then I rummaged through the shelf, where I knew, the wanted book must be hidden behind the old Luther Bible and several other religious books which had belonged to father. The work I was looking for was not so sacred though, as the pentagram on its cover implied.

I let myself sink onto the bed and flipped through the pages with an impatient frown. Of course, there was no chapter on "How to heal the wounds of a fallen angel, inflicted by a magic dagger" and I would have known, having practically learnt the book by heart. That would have been to easy, wouldn't it? I thought grimly. And it was no use to tend to his injuries with a common balm for stab wounds. It was not the dagger itself that had killed him, or well- almost killed him- but the magic woven around it. No, I pondered, what I needed was a _counterspell_.

And for that, of course, I needed something that belonged to the spellweaver herself. A piece of cloth or cutlery she had used, a fingernail or-a wisp of hair. That was it.

I shot up and rummaged through my mother's dresser, carelessly dragging out shirts and stockings. I knew, it must be somewhere in there. Mother had had her own collection of her sister's tokens, and evidently, for cases as such.

The hive had always been a sworn community, true, but that didn't necessarily mean, they had trusted each other much. There had been a lot of treason before, and especially in dark times like these with the terrible witch trials- and when your life was at stake, you gave away your secrets all too easily.

At last I found the small wooden box and in it, the particular curl of dark brown hair, tied together with a red ribbon.

With a grim smile, I got up and threw it into the boiling kettle, where it began to seethe and mingle with other unpleasant ingrediences such as toad slime, mandragora and unborn baby rats. I wrinkled my nose at the smell and shut the lid, in order to allow it to reduce to a thick, pulpy mass, before I returned to the well to fetch more water for the soup.

 

The creature on my bed had remained as lifeless and unmoving as I had dropped him, only a faint movement of his chest under the blanket proved that he was still breathing. And I was glad enough he was unconscious, what I planned to do was daring enough and impossible to imagine, had he been awake.

Once the balm had cooled down to body temperature, I opened up the book again and seated myself on the bed next to him. Carefully, I pulled the blanket from his torso ( as luck would have it, the worst bruises all seemed to be from his waist up ), dipped my fingers into the slimy, foul-smelling paste and applied it to the wounds on his chest, arms and face, softly reciting the words of the healing spell.

I couldn't help wondering if they were of any use on a creature like him, but as I kept mumbling the magic words and ran my fingers across the burn wounds on his jaw, I suddenly felt the liquid grow hot and fuse with the skin beneath it, and before I could pull my hand back from the seething heat, I suddenly found my wrist captured in an iron grip and the creature's eyes tore open, frightfully rolling around in his sockets before he fixated them on me.

I gasped in shock and fear as I found myself staring into the facet eye of an insect, but then he blinked and his eyes turned bright blue- and considerably human.

His parched lips parted and he spoke, with a dark, raspy voice that sounded like something that had been buried in the ground for a long time.

 

" _Gin_."

 

Too stunned for words, I could only gape at him, both triumphant and shocked at the swift success of my work.

The creature frowned and grimaced in a pained, and most un-demonic way before he looked back at me like a little child whose favourite toy had just been taken from him.

"I just... would have liked...one...more... _orange_ -"  he said in a wistful, imploring tone- and as if by way of explaining.

After the effort of sharing this infinite wisdom with me, the deathgrip around my wrist loosened, and his arm fell back on the bed as he passed out once more.

I wrinkled my brow and cast a suspicious sideglance at the magic book. So much for _that_.


	2. Talking to an Angel

_Thursday_

 

I woke to a dim dawn and the unpleasant stiffness of my muscles still aching from yesterday's ordeal.

Moaning in pain I sat up and blinked into my immediate surroundings.

I had been too tired to set up another kettle for soup last night, and, truth be told, too scared to wake the ominous creature on my bed, so I had grudgingly contented myself with some pieces of hard bread and cheese for dinner before I had decided to lock myself in my small chamber, just in case.

Not only to spare my sister, should she come back, the shock of finding me lying next to a man in our parents' former marital bed. ( Although I could vividly imagine her reaction-" _At last_." )

No, more than anything I had feared to wake up in the middle of the night and find the creature sitting on me like an incubus, his large, pale hands at my throat. The mere image made me shudder anew.

 

From the main room, I could hear a steady growling sound and I got up and opened the door to the source of it.

It was him, of course, still lying outstretched on the bed like a good angel- but he hadn't been there all night.

Two empty bottles were lying on the sheets next to him, two empty bottles of our _good, expensive_ wine to be precise, reserved for special guests or medical emergencies and apparently he had decided, he was both.

His face in his sleep looked relaxed and slightly flushed from the wine and he was snoring peacefully and soundly.

 

I felt my face grow hot with anger. It was foolish, he could have easily killed me- or worse- when instead he had only rummaged our storeroom and emptied our wine.

No, not _emptied_. When I reached for the bottles to store them away, I noticed that he had left enough in one of them to decorate the sheets with drips of dark red, which wouldn't be easily washed out.

I uttered an angry little snort before I shook my head at myself.

 _Look at me_. It's the end of all things and I am standing here in the face of a prince of Hell, worrying about stained bedclothes.

 

At the sound of my half-laughing snort, the snoring stopped dead and the creature opened his eyes and gave me an unfriendly stare from icy blue eyes.

"Gin." he said, in an unmistakable commanding tone.

 

I frowned. Had my amateurish healing spell failed? Or had I come too late and the magic dagger had already damaged his brain beyond repair? Of what use would he be, when all he wanted was _drink_ ?

I looked down on him, crossed my arms in front of my crumpled dress and replied drily: "And a good morning to you, too."

He struggled on his elbows in the attempt to sit up on the bed, whereby the blanket slid off his shoulders and I could see that the horrible wounds on his torso had receded to the faint pink of healing scars, as well as the burn on his face.

" _Gin_." he repeated with a dangerous wide-eyed gaze in my direction. "Or more wine. If you had any idea who I am, woman, you'd better do as I ask."

"Oh, I know exactly who you are. And _what_ you are." I retorted, trying to keep my voice steady and unafraid. "Take a look around. This is not a tavern. This is _my_ house and and you drank off what little wine I had."

He nodded grimly. "So you know. It's alright. You don't have to worship me."

I gasped. "I certainly wasn't going to-"

He waved his large hand to cut me off. "And you are?"

"I- Marie."

He furrowed his brows. "Mary...not exactly my favourite name, " he complained, but in an oddly wistful tone.

"Not _Mary_ , " I corrected him, somewhat irritated because this was happening all the time. "Ma _rie_. We are Hugenots, that is-my father was. My mother-"

"Was a _witch_." he interrupted me sharply. "Just like you are. I can sense it, even though your powers are weak."

He shook his head in disgust. "This place is teeming with witches like a viper's nest."

"Not _so_ many any more, since the entire hive has sacrificed their lives in order to kill your brother," I snapped back. "Remember?"

He frowned again and lifted his hands to rub his temples. "Yes. But I find it hard to concentrate. My head aches."

 

"You don't say."

I sat on the bedside and watched him pitilessly.

"Well, my mother was one of them. But your plan didn't work. She died for nothing, they all did. Your nice brother is still alive and back in Sibley Manor to finish his evil plans. And apparently, he wants _you_ dead as well. It is only for my "weak powers" that you are still breathing. Remember _that_ ?"

He scratched his head, running his long fingers through his short red curls in an oddly human gesture.

I sighed. "You don't remember being beaten up and stabbed to death? Well, I wouldn't forget that, I should think."

He snorted contemptously. "Nonsense. No one would dare- besides, no mortal can kill me."

I raised my eyebrows. "No? Well, you looked pretty dead to me, when I found you."

He stared back at me, visibly offended. "But I wasn't. I was- _recovering_."

 

"Very well." I waved my hands in a gesture of capitulation. "Be that as it may...there is a witch called Tituba. A mighty witch, in fact. Almost as mighty as Mary Sibley. Surely you remember _her_ , don't you?"

His eyes lit up like cold, blue flames. "I do."

Of course he does, I thought with a sudden pang. No one, be it human, angel or devil would likely forget a stunning beauty like Mary Sibley.

"Anyway, that Tituba, " I went on, determinedly repressing that unwelcome fit of- _jelousy_? Oh please.

"She serves your brother and brought him back to life. And she enchanted the dagger that should have killed you, he must have told her how. I don't know why they failed in the end, but surely I did my best to help you- _recover_. Oh, and no need to thank _me_ for that."

He had clearly no intentions in doing that. "I understand," he said slowly. "And you don't have to talk so loud. You're making my headache worse."

 

"Well, " I said, standing up and stretching my aching shoulders with a sigh. "Today is _thursday_. Which means, we have three days left to stop him. We better start making plans. And an empty stomach is bad for that. So I guess, I'll make that soup now, which I couldn't yesterday, because of _you- know- who_. Surely you must be hungry as well?"

"I have no taste for food." he replied absently but then his features lit up when a sudden memory crossed his mind. "Unless- do you have any oranges?"

Already halfway to the hearth, I stopped. "Oranges? No. Of course not. Oranges are _costly_." I cast a quick glance through the shabby and not too tidy room. "And this is not Sibley Manor as you may have noticed."

I went over to the hearth and lit a fire to set another kettle to boil. "I tell you something, "I said with my back to him. "If you help us stop your brother, I'll buy you as many oranges as you want. But until then-it's vegetable soup or nothing."

"Alright, " he said to my surprise and I shot him a suspicious glance over my shoulder. He actually _smiled_.

"Fine," I said airily. "Now that we are allies, I should call you by a name- Sentinel doesn't sound right, and neither does " Lord of the Flies", given I don't like flies too much anyway-do you have a real name as well? Other than some kind of -ominous-title?" I rattled on, surprised at my own bravery.

He seemed as dumfounded by my question as I was for asking it.

" _Baʿal Zəvûv_ , " he said at last.

I sighed."Now _that's_ a nice name. Any nicknames?" I added without thinking, before I remembered to whom I was talking.

"Of course not." he growled." That would be quite disrespectful."

I shrugged, then lifted the kettle up and placed it on the fire. "Respect," I told him, " is something that needs to be _earned_."

He said no more and I couldn't help but feel lightheaded with triumph. Here I am, I thought, somewhat complacently. A barely twenty year -old sorcerer's apprentice putting a fallen angel in his place.

 

My smug self- satisfaction lasted only so long until the oversized patient on my bed suddenly discovered the wooden bath tub in a dark corner of the room.

"I want a bath." he announced.

I turned around and found him staring back at me with an uninterpretable expression on his pale face.

"You want _what_?"

He cocked his head towards the bath tub in the corner. "I want to take a bath. _Now_." he clarified.

I wiped my brow with an irritated frown. If anyone needed a bath, it was most likely myself, considering the sudatory effort to drag this- nuisance to my house.

But then, he had probably been lying on the forest ground for days, covered in blood and flies and all, so maybe his wish was not so unusual after all- even if it would again mean no soup for the time being. Besides, other than for the gin and the oranges, I had no excuse not to comply with his request. And given the fact that we needed his help, it was probably for the better to keep him happy...

I sighed and made an overdone curtsey in his direction. "Of course, your Demonic Majesty. I live only to serve you." I said drily before I began to heave the heavy kettle towards the tub. My sarcasm was clearly wasted on him, for he only nodded and kept watching me with this strange and somewhat unsettling look upon his face, his eyes wide and shining overly bright. Needless to mention that he made not the slightest attempt to help me.

 

When I had finally filled the tub, I would have needed the bath for myself more than ever and the impulse to decorate the body of my unwelcome guest up to his stupid, conceited face with fresh stab wounds had become almost overbearing.

"If you'd please, then-" I panted and quickly looked away, when he immediately threw back the blanket and stepped towards the tub, naked as he was.

He really _was_ tall. Standing, the fiery curls on his head almost brushed the cabin's ceiling.

With a blissful grunt he let himself sink into the tub, which was far too small for his body dimensions. The hot water barely covered his broad chest and shoulders, as a covert glance confirmed, and his long muscular arms and legs were all but hanging over the edge of the tub.

Just about to turn and walk out the door, I noticed he was still looking at me expectantly.

I gulped and and forced my face into a grim smile. "Of course." I reached for the cupboard to take out a bar of soap, before I carefully approached him with eyes cast- down, passing the soap to him with my arm outstretched.

But he didn't take it but instead grasped my wrist.

"You're not coming, too?" he asked in a low voice, looking me over with an unmistakable thrill of anticipation. "You might want to take that dress off, though."

" _Excuse me_ ?" I flinched in horror, when the meaning of his words began to sink in. "You can _impossibly_ \- you _seriously_ expect me to- ?" I gasped out in disbelief.

He raised his eyebrows. "Why, of course. Isn't that what humans do all the time?" he replied in a perfectly innocent tone. "And I understand, why. I liked it, too." He smiled encouragingly. "And so did she."

I could just gape. "She?" I croaked at last.

He nodded eagerly. "The girl in that house, Mather took me to. You know, the one with the red lights on all night. All the girls in there seemed to-"

I gave a derisive snort. "The _Bird's Nest_ you mean?" I said sharply. " Why, that is a _brothel_. The women in there are _whores_ , they get _paid_ to like it."

For a second, his features turned into a confused frown but then he smiled and shook his head. "No." he insisted. "She _liked_ it."

 

Unsuccessfully, I tried to free my wrist from his grip. "Well, not all women are whores, you know? Certainly not I. I have never- " I stopped, and to my great embarassment, felt blazing heat rising up my cheeks.

"Don't worry," His wide-eyed, burning stare sank into mine. "I will teach you. I assure you, it's fun."

My face flushing even hotter, both with indignation and the unwelcome images his words provoked, I finally managed to yank my wrist free. "No, _thanks_." I spat and recoiled with weak knees.

Silently, he watched my hasty retreat, flushed face and heavy heaving breast beneath my dress.

"Too bad, " he said. "I quite like you."

Then he shrugged his broad shoulders, causing the water around him to spill to the floor. "When I have freed my brothers from Hell and made this place our new home, I will have any woman I want."

The warm feeling in my stomach at hearing him say he liked me immediately turned into freezing ice.

"Well, have fun with that," I hissed. "But if we don't stop your brother before Black Sunday comes, there won't be women left to serve your pleasures. Maybe you should focus your -excess energy on _that_ first."

Determinedly, I headed for the door. Serves me right, I thought fiercely. Next time I find a body covered in flies I will not give it a second look...were there _tears_ burning in my eyes?

"Wait, " his voice called after me . Reluctantly, I turned around only to see him rise from the tub in all his naked glory, water drops bubbling from his imposing body like glistening pearls, before, as I still stood and stared, it kind of covered itself in a shiny, skin-tight black suit, including black leather boots.

He walked over to me and looked down at me from his threatening height but his voice was soft when he spoke again.

"I am still new to many aspects of humanity, " he said. "Forgive me if I have offended you. I must leave now, but we will meet again soon."

Slightly, he bowed his head to me, then he turned and walked towards the door, leaving me gaping with surprise at this sudden apology and again, an undeniable warmth spreading from my stomach all over my body, mixed with a vague feeling of regret.

 

When the door had fallen shut behind him, I released the breath I hadn't even noticed I was holding, then I went over to the bathtub and ran my fingers through the water. It was still warm. Would be a shame to waste it, right?

As a precaution, I locked the front door before I quickly slipped off my dress and stepped into the tub, where I sat back, closed my eyes and indulged in the warm water, which exhaled only a faint, indefinite yet not unpleasant smell left by his former user.

Bathing was a luxury I didn't allow myself more than once a week, at the very most, and only after Julie, or, when my parents had still been alive, after mother and father as well, but suddenly sharing the bathing water with someone else felt like an intimate act- even if he was no longer here and overall a rude and arrogant pest.

But perhaps all angels were, how would I know?

What was he up to, now? Getting himself something to drink, most likely. I frowned. Provided, his brother didn't know about his unexpected resurrection, I could only hope he wouldn't be careless enough to show himself in the town's taverns- or whorehouses, for that matter. If there was one good thing about the otherwise gruesome reality, that the Devil himself had come to this town in the shape of Mary Sibley's cute little son, then it was that seven-year-old children weren't supposed to be seen outside the house much, but he had his confidants everywhere as recent events had shown.

After a while of gloomy musing and relaxing my sore back and shoulders in the slowly cooling- down water, I reached for the soap bar to wash myself, when I heard someone rattle at the door, soon followed by an indignant knock.

I froze, soap still in hand.

Had he just feigned his retreat, in the justified hope I wouldn't be able to resist a hot bath?

But then, I doubted a locked door could do much to stop him. And the voice calling from behind the door clearly wasn't his.

" _Marie_!" Another sequence of angry knocks. "It's _me_! Why do you lock yourself in, for God's sake?"

 

Sighing, I got up and grabbed a towel to wrap it around me. "I'm coming! No need to break the door in!"

I opened the door to the sight of my sister Julie, two years older than me and looking a little tired but otherwise as pretty as ever. Julie raised a dark brow and looked me over with her typical ironic half- smile. "Why, are we locking ourselves in now when we're bathing, the good little Puritans we are? Really, now. Who would possibly make it out here to watch you ?"

Frowning, I rubbed myself dry before I went to the trunk for a fresh shirt. Pulling it over my head I murmured against the fabric "You'd be surprised."

Julie, who had not heard me, uttered a yawn and stretched herself in front of the hearth like a lazy cat. It was obvious, she hadn't had much sleep last night either, if for less unpleasant reasons.

"Is that soup? I'm _starving_ -" Before I could stop her, she had pulled the lid from the kettle in which the remains of my magical healing potion were left to rot. "Agh, what the hell is _that_..."

I walked over and firmly shut the lid. "Julie. Listen-"

My sister shrugged her bare shoulders in her pretty red dress. "Nevermind. I'm sure I don't want to know."

She flung herself on the bed, burying her crown of dark curls in the pillow. She sniffed at it, then lifted the blanket and smelled it as well. "Those bedclothes smell strange" she announced with a frown. Then, with a wicked smile: "You didn't have a _man_ in here, did you?"

I glared back at her. "Well, in fact, I-"

Julie burst into a ringing laughter. "Now don't be mad. I'm just making fun of you."

She stretched herself on the bed and closed her eyes. "What a night. I'm all strung out."

"I bet you are."

I seated myself on the bedside and watched my sister.

It was no big mystery who of the two of us was considered the greater beauty. Although we had both inheritated our mother's eyes, those green, slightly slanted eyes- so apt for a witch that it was almost ridiculous-on Julie, they were accompanied with a generous mouth, cream white skin and shiny chestnust- coloured curls, while they were fighting a forlorn battle on myself against a very ignoble snub nose and tenacious freckles, not to mention my own hair, which was neither red nor blonde and usually withstood every attempt to be tamed into a proper hairdo.

Julie was also more generously provided with body attributes men usually preferred on a woman, and it was no surprise that it was me, not her who was still a virgin. This, and, as she claimed, my silly ideas of romance, mixed with a good shot of father's Puritan blood.

But none of this mattered right now. When Black Sunday came and the Devil was unleashed this would mean hell on earth for all of us, sinners and saints alike, and the thought of going to hell as a virgin held no comfort at all.

 

I cleared my throat and tried again. "Julie, listen-"

My sister sat up on the bed and grabbed my arm. "No, wait." she said."I need to tell you something first. You know, I was with Isaac last night, right? "

"Julie, please-" I had no intentions to hear about their night time activities, but it was impossible to stop my sister, once she got going.

"No, hear me out!" she insisted. "I'm not going to tell you about the fun we had-although, we _did_ have some, believe me," she paused when she saw my impatient frown. "Don't look at me like this. It's all different this time. This time, it is _love_ , I'm sure of it."

I raised a sceptical eyebrow. She had been "sure" before.

"How do you know?" I inquired, curious despite myself.

"How?" She thought for a moment, then she shrugged. "I cannot say," she replied with a vague smile. "You'll know it when it happens." I was not so sure.

"Anyway, " she continued. "What I was going to say is, that when I was at his place, I heard something. Something- _important._ About-" she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "About Black Sunday. About- the _boy_. There is a conspiracy going on to stop him."

"Did Isaac tell you that?" I asked incredulously.

Julie snorted. "God, no. He is every inch the great protector, you know 'no need to worry your pretty little head about these thing and all' " she said in an overdone high-pitched, girlish voice.

"No, it was when I was sleeping, supposed to be, that is, that he received visitors-and I, well- I eavesdropped on their conversation."

She paused to catch her breath before she went on, her eyes wide with excitement. "It was John Alden, you know, he is his friend, right? But not just him, also Cotton Mather, Sebastian von Marbourg and-believe it or not, _Mary Sibley herself_. They were talking about how they succeeded in killing the tall one, you know? The boy's brother. And about something called 'Red Mercury' and-"

 

"How _very_ interesting." a dark voice said from the door, making us jump. We hadn't even heard him come in.

He stood in the doorway, a half- empty bottle in his hand, his pale features twisted into a somewhat frightening smile. "I'm back home again," he added ominously- and rather unnecessarily.

Julie's eyes had gone round with astounishment. She stared from the overgrown- and slightly swaying- man at the door back to me, her mouth gaping open in a wordless question.

I released my breath with a sigh. "That's what I was trying to tell you all the time, " I said in a resigned tone. I waved my hand at the black clad figure . "Julie, this is-"

"The _Sentinel_ ," she gasped.

"The very same." he nodded, as he walked closer, swathed in cool air and a distinctive whiff of gin. "But I believe I have interrupted you. You were talking about a conspiracy?"

He seated himself on the bedside, making the bed frame creak under his weight, and took a deep draught from the bottle in his hand. "Go on, then. Tell me all about it."


	3. Your enemy's enemy ( is not always your friend )

_Friday_

 

I walked next to my sister across Salem's marketplace, my eyes ( as well as my messy hair ) hidden beneath a big straw head to shelter me from the morning sun.

My legs felt shaky and I had a queasy feeling, and only part of it was caused by the task lying ahead of us.

It had been a long day yesterday and a _strange_ one, on top of that.

Julie had repeated her story to the attentive ears of our angry inquisitor, who had listened with a glowering face and afterwards declared to kill them all, and in the most slow and painful way, except for Cotton Mather, whom he refused to believe to be part of a conspiracy to murder him, after all the nice things he had shown to him.

We had done our best to talk him out of it, or at least, to hear them before killing them, for they might be the only allies we had.

Eventually, Julie had asked him to share his liquor, which he had, if reluctantly, and since I didn't want to be left out, I had had quite some of it myself.

At one time or another we had decided to make that soup at last, in a strange, drunk compositive work of him drawing water from the well, Julie cutting the vegetables and myself trying to make something, to some extent, eatable of it.

The Sentinel, or "Beel" as Julie had unceremoniously decided to call him after the first cup of gin, had despite his claims to have no taste for food, eaten more than half of it himself, before we had finished the gin and made and broken plans for the total annihilation of his brother, which had become more and more vibrant and phantastic when the bottle ran dry.

In the end, we had more or less agreed on the fact, that we would likely need the help of the other conspirators and decided that Julie should gently break the news to Isaac first.

Eventually the Sentinel had settled for a long, humourless monologue in which he complained about the cruelty and unforgiveness of his father in heaven, the centuries of unthinkable tortures he and his brothers had suffered in hell and his gruesome plans on revenge- a lecture that had quite dampened our mood but eventually we had all been very tired.

Julie had outright refused to sleep on the hard plank bed in the small chamber, Beel had not even considered to leave the bed to us, and I- with a vague feeling of unease at the thought of leaving the two of them alone, even though I would have rather died than admitted it- had eventually proposed that we slept all together on the big bed, which we then did- and for at least ten hours straight, not that we were running out of time for the end of the world or anything.

 

And here we were now, on the way to Julie's lover and best friend of the town's most famous witch hunter, to disclose to him that he was not only making love to a witch on a regular basis, but also, that the Sentinel ( who had disappeared in the morning in his own, not further specified affairs ) was still alive and ( on certain conditions that needed to be debated still ) might be convinced to help us kill his brother once and for all.

I admit, I had my doubts, if we stood a chance against the dark lord at all, when even the great sacrifice of the hive had failed, but even if we succeeded against all odds, there still remained the issue of the Sentinel himself.

He had left no doubt that he wanted to unleash hell on Black Sunday just like his brother did, even if not to become God himself but "only" to free his fellow fallen angels, and when Julie and I had dared to point out that this would probably not mean much of a difference for the gruesome fate of Salem's inhabitants and the rest of mankind, he had only shrugged his broad shoulders.

"And would that really be such a bad thing?" he had asked in an ominous tone.

"Your race, mankind as you say, the fellow people you obviously hold so dear that the mere thought of their destruction is abhorrent to you, are they really worth to be protected, or even shed a single tear over them if they were to be wiped off the face of the earth? God's last and favourite children, indeed," he said, his voice beginning to slur but dripping with contempt.

"Father loved your kind so much that he had us, his first born, create a whole world- this earth- and HE gave it to you so you could subdue it. And oh, how perfectly you took HIM by His word."

He had paused to take a long gulp of gin. " HE gave you this world and it took you only the shortest period of time to destroy it. Exterminate its creatures, burn down its woods, poison its seas. And if you haven't destroyed this place yet then only because you are constantly busy with destroying each other. And that would be fine with me, no doubt about that,"

He waved his hand as if to chase away annoying insects. But no, insects were his friends, I reminded myself, we were the insects he wished to exterminate.

"But you breed even faster than you can kill each other," he said with disgust. "And there's more and more of you each day. Like a plague. Indestructable."

"At first, Father was as disgusted by your activities as we were," he continued. "Remember. The Flood. The plagues of Egypt." he said as if this had happened only recently.

"He punished you, as any loving father would punish his children in order to discipline you. But to no avail. You remained obstinate. Inconvincible. And then, at some point, he just gave up. Withdrew. Lost interest. I don't know. It says, his ways are mysterious but then, he is _old,_ after all. Perhaps he just grew tired. Be that as it may, he left you alone. To pursue your path of destruction, unperturbed, unmolested. And you have been quite successful at that, would you not agree? But don't get me wrong,"

He had given us a look which was probably meant to be reassuring.

"I don't wish to see the very place my brothers and I built turnt into a lifeless wasteland. What I am talking of- what I am dreaming of- is not hell on earth. I know it says, better to reign in hell than serve in heaven, but that is not my intention. I want to heal this world, not destroy it. And in order to heal it, it will be inevitable to burn out the maladies that infest it."

"And with maladies you mean us." I whispered.

"Not all of you, of course," he said softly, looking up at me from warm blue eyes. "Certainly not _you._ It will be merely...thinning out the rows. An end to old things always has to come before a new beginning," he said in a dreamy voice. "And real greatness can only rise from the ashes of a burnt down world."

 

It seemed inevitable that we would have to kill him as well.

 

Julie was visibly nervous about the meeting with her lover, which did not mean she would refrain from her usual ironic, little teasings.

"I must say, I'm impressed," she murmured softly, while bowing her pretty head every now and then to passers-by in feigned respectfulness. "You don't sell yourself cheap, do you? If only I had known you played the Holy Virgin all the time because you wouldn't settle for less than a fallen angel- "

She gave me a sly smile. "Well, he's not too bad, your Beel. Although quite a _giant_ , isn't he. Aren't you afraid he will...you know...tear you apart?"

I cast her a glance of utmost contempt. "He is not my Beel." I said icily." He is not even a man. And as for the rest, I...I refuse to even comment on that."

Julie shrugged. "Just saying...and don't pretent to be so stuck-up, I have eyes to see and I have seen how you have looked at him. Like someone starving at the sight of the last apple on the tree..."

I stopped dead in my tracks and grabbed my sister's arm. "Will you just...stop that?" I hissed angrily. "First, you're wrong and second...what difference does it make any way? In two days time it will be either us or them. Or do you think, Isaac and his friends would ever let him live?"

"I'm sorry." Julie gave my hand a consoling squeeze. " I'd rather not think of bad things that could happen until I can't possibly avoid it."

She smiled again, as we kept walking. "Maybe you can keep him still. If he could be put under a spell...like...I don't know... a genie in a bottle..."

"In a _gin_ bottle," I added blankly. "Yes, that's it. You're a genius, Julie, really. And thanks a lot for your genuine concern, but I told you before, I do not have the slightest..."

" I know, I _know_." Julie complied wide- eyed, before she looked over the wooden basket I was carrying. " Must have been an accident then, that you just spent a fortune on those oranges, right?"

"Not at all, " I replied gracefully. "Angels may not be men, but just like them, you better keep them happy if you want them to do what you will. But you know that, right? And speaking of..."

I reached out and pointed at a small townhouse next to a barn. "We're here. I' ll give you half an hour to convince your Isaac...should be mere child's play for a girl with your abilities, right? Good luck!"

I watched Julie walk to the door, somewhat hesitantly, and couldn't quite suppress a malicious pleasure in seeing my confident sister in evident unease for once.

 

It didn't take her half an hour though. Barely five minutes had passed, and when I had just decided to eat one of the deliciously smelling fruits in my basket myself, the door opened up again, and Isaac himself let me in.

I watched him with cautious curiosity.

I didn't know him well, his disdain for witches was well known- and not surprising after he had lost his whole family through them- and a certain touch of melancholy and mistrust still remained on his stern features, which were otherwise not bad to look at. He was tall, slender but athletic, had short, dark brown hair and piercing, clear blue eyes. To her credit, Julie _did_ have a good taste in men.

He didn't say a word but led me to the parlor, where not only my sister awaited me, but to my utter surprise quite a convention- John Alden, the grim- looking witch hunter himself, Mary Sibley, more stunning than ever in a beautiful red gown, Cotton Mather with his unkempt beard and his wife, a very nervous- and very pregnant- looking Anne Hale.

Despite herself, Julie looked quite a bit intimidated by such noble company, but she kept her chin up defiantly and her eyes on her lover, who could not quite meet her gaze.

Mary Sibley, the mother of the boy, was the first to speak.

"Very well," she said quietly. "Your sister just broke some interesting news to us. So, the Sentinel is still alive. I cannot say I'm pleased to hear that, but in these dark times we can't be picky about whatever help we can get. Our time is running out and fast. I don't know if I will be able to leave the house again. The only reason he let me out is because he is confident in his victory. But I think we all agree on the fact, that there's no time to waste."

John Alden frowned at her words. "How is this devil still alive? I surely gave him a good stabbing..."

Mary Sibley laid a white hand on her lover's arm. "Either Tituba's magic is not as strong as it used to be...but I doubt that, after she brought the boy back to life, or this little witch in training here is more powerful than she knows..." she cast a quick glance at me and gave me a rather cool smile.

"Or other powers are at play of which we do not know yet. Anyways, it matters not. You say that the Sentinel is willing to team up with us again to kill his brother, do you?"

I cleared my throat. "Yes. On certain conditions, that is. And just so you know- he knows it was you who planned his death."

Anne Hale uttered a hysteric little giggle. "Certain conditions? How can we even think about bargaining with this... _thing!_ He almost killed me before...and my poor little baby..."

Her trembling voice turned into a violent sob. Her husband laid his arms around her and cradled her softly. "There will be no bargain with this creature, fear not, my love" he said soothingly. His eyes met with Mary Sibley's above his wife's head. "All that matters is, that he believes it, right? We give him what he wants, until he's done his part. Then we send him back to hell along with his brother, where he belongs."

"I did it once, "John Alden said grimly. "I'll gladly do it again."

Cotton Mather gave him a weary smile. "Let's hope it will work out once more." he said thoughtfully. "He may be weakened but he will be cautious, now. However, he does have a weakness or two..."

Mary Sibley nodded her beautiful head. "So we're agreed on this," she said firmly. "But make no mistake. He trusts us no more than he trusts his brother."

"But can you blame him?" I heard myself say much to my own surprise. "You all tried to kill him before and still wish him dead."

Mary Sibley looked at me attentively. "That is to say- you don't?" she asked cooly.

I managed to keep my face and voice calm, but barely. _I don't like you._ I thought once more. _So many people have died because of you and still you think you're the queen of Salem_.

"Of course I do." I replied blankly. "He wants to free his brothers from hell and make Salem their new home. There's no question about what that would mean for its current inhabitants."

Mary Sibley nodded again, but she still seemed somewhat alert. "Good. In fact I may have a plan, but he needs to hear about, too. So, where is he?"

 

And that was in deed a good question. He had announced to get hold of the red mercury, but would not say, where he was going. Considering what Mather had said about his weaknesses, he might as well have made a quick side-trip to the tavern- or the whorehouse- or both.

Cotton Mather seemed to come to the same conclusion. He got up from his chair. "I will go look for him."he sighed.

"No need," Mary Sibley replied in a flat voice. There had been no knock on the door but closed doors seemed to be not much of an obstacle for the Sentinel. He entered the parlor, wearing a long, black cape with a hood which was covering half of his face.

Anne Hale winced and clung to her husband's arm, but the Sentinel didn't even look at her.

Nor at his almost-murderer, whose hand had reached for his knife immediately, his drinking companion or Julie and Isaac, who had finally settled to sit next to each other and were holding hands. And neither, as I noticed with a sudden pang, did he look at me.

His bright eyes were hidden beneath his hood but there was no doubt that they were fixated on the woman who stood in front of him and to her credit, didn't even flinch at his sudden appearance.

"All hail the mother of the dark lord," he said in a dark, sarcastic voice, which, as I couldn't help but notice, was thick with liquor once more. "Or should I say, the future goddess? Remember how you showed off in front of me in your wedding dress? Looks like you are going to wear it after all, now."

He threw back his hood and his eyes were burning with cold rage.

Mary Sibley held his gaze, unblinking." Not if I can avert it," she replied firmly. "Will you help me or not?"

"Help you _again_ , you mean" he growled. "And what _great_ gratitude I received from you, didn't I?"

He looked around the room. "You're not my friends, none of you. Not you..." he pointed at Mary Sibley, "Or you" at Mather and his wife, before his gaze fell on me and he blinked and looked away from me in Isaac's direction "You I don't even know", until he fixated his gaze on John Alden, "and certainly not _you_ ".

He was swaying a little. "But as for your question, the answer is yes. Yes, I will help you kill my brother. _Again._ He meant more to me than any of you can even imagine. And it is therefor that his treason outweighs yours by far. So...if you have a plan-enlighten me. I'm ready."

He let himself sink into an armchair, evidently exhausted from his speech.

John Alden watched him with a frown. "The red mercury." he demanded to know. "Where is it? Do you have it?"

"Of course I have it, " the Sentinel said with a grim smile. "And it is hidden safely somewhere only I know. And there it will stay until its final purpose."

"Which is, if I got this all right, " Isaac intervened for the first time. " to free your "brothers" from hell and make Salem their new home?"

"As it has always been planned, yes." the Sentinel replied solemnly.

Anne Hale uttered a hysteric little laugh. "See? He doesn't even deny it. How could he be any kind of...ally? If we let him have his way we will all suffer horrible agonies!"

The Sentinel sat up in his chair and bent forwards, his eyes burning like cold, blue flames. "Horrible agonies?" he hissed. "You talk about things you don't even understand. You think you know what it means to suffer? You have no idea. Me and my brothers have been condemned to _unending_ torment in hell, and by our own father on top of that. No one has ever suffered as we have. No one ever will. Certainly not you through me."

 

I felt a shiver running down my spine. His words and voice made my flesh crawl. This wasn't Beel, the man with whom we had shared food, drink and even our bed yesterday in a somewhat strange, yet merrily drunken companionship. This was every inch a creature from a nightmare, evil and vengeful, with no more sympathy for a human being than a predator would have towards his prey. He might enjoy to play with it for a while but eventually his killer instinct- or simply his hunger- would take over, and that would be it.

"So you're saying, " Isaac said slowly. "That you have no plans for revenge on mankind when it comes to Black Sunday? That you wouldn't make us suffer, because you have? Forgive me, but from all I heard about you, that sounds hard to believe."

The Sentinel shrugged his broad shoulders beneath his dark cape. "I am the lord of the flies, not the lord of the _lies._ " he replied cooly. "That would be my brother. I have never concealed my intentions from you. Your pathetic short- time lives mean nothing to me, make no mistake about it. But..."

he paused and took another gulp from the bottle. "I do not bear a grudge against you like I once did...in fact," His eyes searched the room and briefly came to rest on me before he continued, his voice a touch softer than before." In fact, there are some things about humanity which I find...interesting...delightful even. And when my brothers will join me to rule this place...I told you, I have no interest in worshippers, but there will surely be need for...henchmen... servants, if you will."

Mary Sibley gave him a mirthless smile. " _Slaves_ , you mean." she replied drily. "Submissive objects to serve your questionable pleasures."

He looked her over with a wicked little smile. "Or else you can just die." he said sharply. "And join my heavenly father in paradise.An option _I_ no longer have. As I told you before, he is all too willing to forgive when his beloved humans are concerned. And isn't that exactly, what you crave so intently, on your knees and in your churches all the time?"

It was then that Cotton Mather, who had been listening quietly, suddenly barged in. He lifted his hands in a soothing gesture. "Listen," he said. "Stop that. We shouldn't speak of the cake before picking the apples."

The Sentinel turned his head at him with a drunken half-smile. "Another of your metaphors, Mather?" he sneered. "But I get your point. First comes first. We should think of how to get rid of my brother before anything else."

"Yea, let's talk of casting out devils through Beelzebub," John Alden growled." Another metaphor for you, demon."

"Get it over with," Anne Hale's nagging voice intervened. "I'm getting hungry."

She stroked her swollen belly. "And I have to eat for two now as you might have noticed." She wrinkled her little snub nose. "Do I smell oranges?"

I pulled my basket close. "Well, I..."

The Sentinel darted me a joyful glance. "You bought me _oranges_?" he said with a delighted smile in my direction. There was nothing sinister or vengeful in his pale face for a moment, only a look of gleeful anticipation and utter gratitude.

Slowly, I took one of the fruits from the basket and threw it over to him and he caught it with a broad smile, taking a greedy bite.

I raised a brow at him. "You might want to try and peel it before you eat it," I said softly, smiling.

I took another orange and peeled it, before dividing it in half and offering him one side and the other to Anne Hale.

I didn't even notice Mary Sibley watching me with an unreadable expression on her beautiful features.

The Sentinel took the peeled orange from my hand and tasted it, frowning. "I don't know." he said, chewing. "I rather like it whole. Both bitter and sweet."

He smiled at me like he had just made a joke, which only the two of us could understand, and I, to my surprise, found myself helplessly smiling back at him.

Cotton Mather took the opportunity to gently pull the bottle from the Sentinel's hand and take a sip. "Tell us about your plan" he addressed Mary Sibley. "You said, there is one, didn't you?"

"In deed." she replied, still taken in by the sight of the smile that had just been shared between the Sentinel and his orange girl.

"Another ritual, of course." she said solemnly. "As you know, the dark lord plans to rise to be God himself by marrying me, his own...mother. And nothing but my death could keep him from doing this..."

"This will not happen," John Alden interrupted her fiercely. "Not as long as there is any life in me."

 _Of course not,_ I couldn't help but think bitterly. _It was okay to have a dozen witches killed in the great sacrifice, including my own mother, but not precious Mary Sibley, even after all she had done_.

My sister seemed to have the same feeling. "Then what?" she asked flippantly. "Another ritual, you say? What could kill the boy when the great sacrifice couldn't?"

I noticed, that Issac had laid his arm around her and held her in a tender, yet unmistakably protective embrace. They really made a lovely pair, these two. Both dark-haired, but where Julie was all soft, generous curves, he was all muscles and hard as steel. I suppressed a sudden pang of jealousy. It was unlikely that anyone would ever hold me like this.

"In deed," Mary Sibley said softly. "A valid argument. What could be a stronger spell than the blood of a dozen mighty witches?"

The gaze of her sparkling, dark eyes wandered around the room until it came to rest on me with something like malicious glee. "The blood of a _single_ witch." she said. "Precious not because of her power," she went on, meeting the incredulous silence around her. "But because of her _virginity_. The blood of a virgin to ban a great evil. Like it has always been since the old days."

 

Everyone looked at me now and I could practically feel all the colour leave my face. "My... _blood?_ " I gasped out, at last, in a croaky voice.

"Your blood, yes, " Mary Sibley confirmed. "Not your _life,_ child. I'm talking of the power of the virgin blood of a witch. This is a rare treat and a mighty one, too. And the...person who draws it, will be empowered by it to defeat the devil himself."

"The person..." I repeated blankly.

"Yes." the mighty witch nodded with a faint smile. "There's only one who is qualified, of course. No man, but still man enough to attend to the task, I should think."

Her gaze wandered from me to the Sentinel, who met it blankly. "On Black Sunday," Mary Sibley continued."In the very place in the woods where the great sacrifice took place. Where the spirits of our dead sisters will be able to send their focused powers to strengthen you. This is how it will be done. The only way it _can_ be done. If you're willing to accept your fate, that is."

She looked back at me and there was not a touch of compassion in her hard, dark-eyed gaze. "Remember, it's nothing less than the fate of mankind that is on the stake here."

 

I looked back at her, surprised shock slowly making way for a boiling rage. I could feel the hot blood rushing back to my head. "This...this," I struggled for words. "This is the most _idiotic_ thing I've ever heard." I stuttered. "And if that's the best you can come up with, then..."

I paused, catching my breath, before I spat out the last words with utmost contempt. "Then you better hurry to think of something else, for there is no force in heaven or hell that will make me do that."

I turned on my heels and rushed towards the door, dropping the basket in my wild haste, which made the oranges scatter in all directions about the floor until I slammed the front door behind me and ran.

 

There was a brief silence following my dramatic exit from the stage. Then John Alden frowned and cast a quick, unkind glance at the Sentinel, who sat frozen in his chair like a huge, marble stature dressed in black.

"Can't say I blame her," he said drily.

The fallen angel turned his icy blue stare at him, then to Mary Sibley. He looked confused- troubled even, if that was even possible.

"Are you sure, this is the only way?" he asked at last.

"Yes." Mary Sibley replied sternly. "Blood has opened the door, blood will close it. It is the only way."

The Sentinel got up from his chair. "Then I should go after her."

"No!" Julie barged in quickly. "That's not a good idea, trust me. You will be the last person she wants to see right now."

She softly twisted herself free from Isaac's embrace and got up. "Give her some time." she said. "I'm sure, _she_ will do whatever is necessary."

She cast a quick sideglance at Mary Sibley. "She won't back down from her responsibilities."

"As do we all, I hope" Mary Sibley replied. "Very well. As I said, I do not know if it will be possible for me to leave the house again. Everything is said. When we see each other again, it will be time to walk the talk."

 

Cotton Mather stood up, pulling his wife with him. "We should leave this house seperately. You never know who's watching in this town."

The Sentinel was the next to leave, his black hood covering his face again and only after he had asked Mary Sibley, where to find a certain witch called Tituba. Evidently, he was planning not to kill time only.

When Julie made her leave, Isaac brought her to the door and it took quite some time of soft whispers and kisses, until he returned. Mary Sibley and John Alden looked at him with ill- concealed amusement.

"Don't say it," he warned grimly. "I didn't know she was a witch when I met her and no witchcraft was at play then."

"For all you know, "Mary Sibley replied with high- arched eyebrows.

"For all I know," he confirmed. "And that's enough for me. I trust her and so can you."

"It's alright, man" John Alden smiled and slapped his back. "Happens to the best of us, eh?" His smile faded and he looked from him to his mistress. "But what about that sister of hers?"

"In deed, "Isaac turned to Mary with an incredulous frown. "T _he maiden blood of a witch will empower the devil's brother to kill him_? What nonsense is that?"

Mary Sibley shrugged her ivory shoulders in her scarlet gown. "Not _exactly_ nonsense," she said lightly. "Blood _is_ a mighty essence. It might be helpful, who knows? But that's not what this is all about, of course."

She looked at the two men and met their clueless gazes with an ironic little smile.

"What is the greatest power of all?" she asked at last. "Greater than the glory of heaven or the evil of hell? What is the power that makes the world go round? "

" _Love_ ," John Alden said softly, his eyes fixated on her.

"Love, " she confirmed. "Something the dark lord will _never_ be able to feel. But these two- they certainly do."

Isaac shook his head in disbelief. "So you are saying that..."

"Of course, " she interrupted him. "Don't tell me you didn't notice. It is obvious to everyone...except for themselves."

"But then...why not tell them the truth? That was cruel of you, Mary."

"Cruel?" she said icily. "No, not me. If anything, then it is fate, that is cruel enough to let that happen. For surely, a thing like that has never happened before. And equally sure, they wouldn't have believed it if it was me who told it to them. No, I am not cruel. I am gracious enough to let them find out for themselves."

"But to what end?" Isaac asked, confused.

"Isn't that obvious?" she asked, a little irritated. "If he loves her, he will do anything to make sure nothing will happen to her. Not from his brother, nor from his other brothers from hell. And remember, love is a strong force but it also makes you vulnerable. And I think, we all agree on the fact that we need him as vulnerable as possible if we want to destroy him."

John Alden shook his head, lost in thoughts. "I don't know, Mary," he said at last."I'd prefer to just stab the bastard again than to rely on such vague assumptions."

"I'm sure you do," she said tenderly and went over to him to take his chin in her hand and pull his face down to her to kiss him. "But you must trust me here. You don't know the Sentinel like I do. He isn't immune to human emotions. All you see is the monster, the gory beast from hell. And he certainly is all that, but not only."

She paused to look him in the eyes, intently. "Everyone, either human, angel or devil, has a weak spot. Something, he wants more than anything else and would do anything for. The Sentinel, however, despite all his evident power, has even two. Or well, three, if you count his weakness for liquor, but I don't think this one is crucial here." she said with a mirthless little laugh.

"So if one of the two things, he wants so much that he would die for it is this girl," John Alden said slowly. "What's the other?"

 

Mary Sibley smiled without any warmth. " _Redemption_." she whispered.


	4. Paradise Lost

_Saturday_

 

I woke up to a hesitant knock against the door.

 

Yesterday, after Mary Sibley had uttered her ominous words, I had left Isaac's house and hurried out of town as fast as my feet carried me, but instead of running home I had found myself roaming the woods with no aim.

Walking in a numb haze and blind for everything in my way, I had stumbled over roots and deadwood every now and then, which had led to some unpleasant encounters with thorn bushes and the forest ground but in my state of shock I had not felt any pain apart from the one that was raging in my chest.

Eventually, like possessed by a will of their own, my feet had carried me to the clearing in the middle of the forest where the Great Sacrifice had taken place- the very same place where I was to- well, where I was supposed to do, what I would _by no means_ do.

With a pained moan, I had sunken down on my knees, cursing and crying for a help which I knew would never come.

Part of me knew I was overreacting; after all, Mary Sibley had not ordered me to sacrifice my _life_ but only my _virginity_ , but I couldn't help it.

I was sure she somehow knew my greatest and most shameful desire and was now determined to turn it against me.

And the idea of that ritual was complete nonsense, of that I was certain.

Sure, when it came to witchcraft, _she_ was the expert, not me, but I had carefully studied all of my mother's magic books and never come across anything as stupid as this.

Perhaps it was only an act of petty revenge. My mother had always been the first to speak up and condemn Mary Sibley's ungodly actions, she had been the first to declare herself in favour of her death sentence and had emphatically contradicted her reawakening. And Mary Sibley likely assumed- and rightly so- that Julie and I weren't her greatest fans either.

However I wasn't selfish enough to believe it was only my public humiliation she had in mind. There had to be more to it, the situation was too grave to allow her to indulge in private feelings of vengeance.

And considering who the other participant in that grotesque play was supposed to be, I was sure she planned no good for the Sentinel as well. They wanted him dead just as much as his brother, and even though I had not dared to disagree, I knew in my heart that despite everything, I did not want anything to happen to him- and most of all, not play a crucial part in any plan which would lead to his destruction.

Well, I would not do it. They couldn't force me. But that was, of course, a lie. They _could_ force me to do anything, powerful and desperate as they were. And they would. Unless-

I had to talk to Julie. Had to convince her to run away with me, leave Salem to a fate which at least some of its inhabitants certainly deserved.

Steeled with fresh determination, I had made my way home, only to find my sister gone once more, but she had left our purchases from the market there, fresh bread, butter, cheese and honey- and even some of the lost oranges. Well, there was nothing wrong with enjoying one's last meal before the end of the world and after I had prepared myself a sumptuous dinner from all those rare delicacies and eaten all of it ( my stomach seemingly unperturbed by my heart's troubles ) I had suddenly been very tired and decided I could as well sleep until she returned and besides- I finally had the bed for myself.

My sleep was afflicted with vague nightmares of some gruesome, gory beast chasing me through the woods, which I could never see but knew for a fact that it would kill and devour me whole once it caught me.

 

The knock on the door came again and this time, I sat up with a jolt.

 

At first I was relieved that I had only been dreaming, until it occurred to me again that my reality was worse than any nightmare, quickly followed by the realization what the knock on the door must mean.

Julie was back! A tentative flicker of new hope began to rise up inside me. She would tell me, it had all been just a very bad joke, or that they had made up a new plan, a real one- or else we could just pack our things and go away, leave this mad place to its fate and run, anywhere, just away...

 

I unlocked the door and stopped dead in my tumbling thoughts. It wasn't Julie.

Slowly, I released my breath with a resigned sigh."And since when do you knock on doors-"

 

The Sentinel looked me over and despite the fact that I had quite different problems to deal with I still felt my cheeks flush hot with embarassment at the tought what a sight I must make- in my shabby nightgown that didn't cover the fresh scrapes and bruises on my arms and calves and with my hair all tousled from sleep and my eyes red from crying.

"Won't you ask me to come in?" he asked at last.

I crossed my arms and shook my head. "No. Go away."

He looked confused. "Where should I go?"

"I don't care." I declared ungraciously. "Anywhere. Wherever you just came from, the tavern or the whorehouse, how would I know-"

My visitor frowned and shook his head. "But I haven't been there." He went past me through the door and took off his coat, as if I couldn't keep him from entering the house whenever he wished, which was in fact all too true.

"I paid Tituba a visit," he said with an ominous smile and seated himself on the bed.

"Tituba," I repeated breathlessly. "Did you...did you kill her?"

"No, I asked her for a game of chess. _Of course_ I killed her."

He took one of the remaining oranges and began to eat it with relish- and with its rind, as always- while I could just stand and stare.

It was not so much the casual mention of murder but rather-

"You just made a joke," I said, perplexed. "A very bad one, by the way. What's wrong with you?"

Beel shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "Nothing. Must be the liquor. I should not drink so much."He produced a gin bottle from under his black cape and watched it with a slight frown. "But somehow- I find it hard to- resist." He shrugged and opened the bottle, took a sip of the transparent liquid and grimaced at the taste of it." It briefly restores the loss of wings." he coughed. " And it has been quite a strange day after all- wouldn't you agree?"

He looked at me over the bottle as if expecting me to raise the subject that hung heavily in the air between us like a dark, ominous cloud.

"That's the problem with drinkers," I said snidely. "You'll always find an excuse-"

He sighed and offered the bottle to me. "What about you? You look like you could use some yourself."

"Why, thank you." I snapped, no longer able to keep my composure. "I'm quite alright. I had a bad dream, that's all. An evil witch told me I had to sacrifice my virginity to a demon from hell in a dubious ritual...no _wait_ , it wasn't a dream, was it? So, please forgive me if I don't feel- or _look_ , appropriately thrilled."

Beel nodded and watched me intently from his bright blue eyes- sympathetically even. "Do you want to talk about it?" he offered.

I escaped his gaze by turning my back to him. "No. You wouldn't understand it any way."

 

I didn't even hear him make a move and flinched slightly when I suddenly felt his presence only inches behind me, the warmth coming from him causing every hair on my body to raise.

"You despise me enough that the mere thought of this ritual is abhorrent to you, even if it could be the only chance to destroy my brother, I understand that much." he said very softly.

His breath against my neck was warm and bittersweet with the scent of gin and oranges. "Do not think, I blame you. It's just- "he swallowed and his fingertips all but touched my bare arms in the mere hint of a caress. "It's just that I don't feel the same." he said at last, sounding surprised at his own words.

I shivered and felt my knees threatening to give in but somehow I managed to stay on my feet, knowing he would catch me if I fell and fearing this more than anything.

It was bearable as long as he didn't touch me, or as long as I stood with my back to him, but I knew I would be lost the second I turned around to him.

 

"I don't despise you either," I whispered at last. "Not at all."

I heard him sigh in evident relief and after a moment, seat himself back on the bed, which gave me the opportunity to turn around without lying in his arms immediately. I took a step backwards, just to make sure. He watched me with a small, uncertain smile. "But that's- _good_ ?" he asked.

"No, it is _not_ good." I cried out. "It's all _wrong_ , that's what it is ! All of this! That's-that's just not how this is supposed to be! It destroys _everything_! How could it possibly be anything but _horrible_ , if it's part of a- a stupid ritual, with everyone watching, with _her_ watching and judging my performance like some - _witch-bawd_ , let alone the ghosts of all the other witches, including my dead _mother_ \---"

I stopped and swallowed back a violent sob at the sheer horror of the thought and even more, at having to explain it to him.

The smile had left his face. He looked worried. "I understand, " he said, albeit in a tone that indicated the opposite.

"But that's not even the worst, " I went on fiercely. "It would be bad enough as it is, but what is more, it doesn't even make sense. A ritual like this doesn't exist and the whole thing is nothing but an infamous lie."

The Sentinel frowned. "Why would Mary Sibley lie about such a thing?"

I slouched my shoulders in helpless despair. "I don't know. I have no idea, what Mary Sibley plans, but whatever it is, be sure, it is intended to destroy not only your brother, but you as well.

He smiled smugly. "I' m not so easily killed."

 

I took two steps forward until I stood right in front of him, then let myself sink on my knees between his legs. He inhaled sharply when I took his hands and placed it around my throat.

"But I am." I whispered. "Kill me, then. Don't let them make me the tool for your destruction. Mary Sibley may not have the guts to end her life to stop her son's evil plans, but I certainly do to end hers."

"Kill you? " He looked at me with an incredulous frown."You can't be serious. Never in a million years would I do that..."

He wanted to take his hands off my throat but I kept them there and increased the pressure. "You must," I insisted. "Please. If you don't do it, I'll have to do it myself. And I will, I don't care if I'll go to hell for it..."

Suddenly I felt his fingers dig into the skin of my throat and I gasped out in shock. "Don't you _ever_ say such a stupid thing again, " he hissed angrily and his bright eyes burned into mine. "You don't know what you're talking about and you wouldn't say that, if you did."

His grip around my throat loosened and I coughed and tried to catch my breath.

"And you're wrong about Mary Sibley." he continued after a moment." I don't trust her any more than you do, but her death wouldn't have stopped my brother. He doesn't need her to fulfil his plans, he _wants_ her at his side in the moment of his greatest triumph. I asked him to let me kill her after her first act of treason, but he wouldn't allow it. And she is still alive."

He paused and let his fingers run up my throat to my tear-streaked cheeks, his thumb scraping the curve of my lips ever so slightly. I closed my eyes and quivered under his touch.

"The human body is a curious thing," he said dreamily. "So weak and fragile, so much at the mercy of its own pleasures...and yet so tempting in all its vulnerability."

His fingers brushed along my temples and through my hair, sending hot shivers from my skulp down my spine.

"I never thought, I would say that," he whispered. "But the longer I have one myself, the more I like it- the more real it feels- isn't that strange?"

I couldn't reply. My own weak, fragile body certainly _felt_ strange, and stranger by the moment.

Beel's strong, warm hands were beneath my hem on my back now, gently stroking the length of it and then pulling me closer to him until the tips of my breasts brushed his chest and began to ache in a most delightful way.

"Even my brother must know this feeling, at least to some degree, " he went on. "That's why he didn't let me kill her. I couldn't understand it then, but I think, I do now."

I opened my eyes to find his face so close to mine that my lips almost touched his. "What shall we do," I whispered.

He smiled. "This," he said and closed the small gap between us with a fervent kiss.

 

When I came back to my senses enough to think straight I opened my eyes and stared at him in sudden understanding. "The ritual requires a _virgin_ witch" I whispered.

"Exactly." he said with a broad smile. " A problem which, for all I know, can easily be remedied. And no one is watching us right now."

 

The blood rushed up my cheeks and I felt very stupid. I had been ready to run away, even to kill myself, when the obvious solution had always been before my very eyes- all it took was my defloration, and from what I could feel- practically sitting on his lap as I was- he was more than ready to commit to the task.

But instead of feeling relieved, I was suddenly very nervous. I freed myself from his embrace, crawled off the bed and went to the door, which I bolted carefully, before I came back and seated myself on the far side of the bed with my back to him. Then I poured myself a glass of his gin and determinedly took a big gulp, coughing and choking, when the liquid burnt my insides like fire.

I knew, I was acting childish, but I couldn't help but feel like a blushing maiden on her wedding night- which I effectively was. It was ridiculous- this was _Beel_ , he had just all but confessed that he loved me, wanted me, and I wanted him, too, wanted him so much it was almost painful- but all I could suddenly think of was the dreadful beast from my nightmare and Julie's stupid remark that he would likely tear me apart.

"Tell me," I said, without looking at him. "What you said at Isaac's house yesterday-that you weren't able to lie- is that true?"

He didn't answer for a moment and I turned around to look at him. He seemed confused by my question, but his voice was calm when he said: "It is true."

"So if I asked you a question, you would tell me the truth about it, no matter what it is?" I went on.

"Ask," he said, sounding a little impatient, now. It must have been as clear to him as it was to me that I was merely trying to buy time, but he was polite enough not to push it and for that I was grateful.

"Alright," I took a deep breath. " Tell me then- if Mary Sibley had asked you to act out that ritual with her, instead of me, would you have been equally eager to do it?" I asked in what I hoped sounded like an indifferent tone.

Beel frowned and looked a little like someone who just realized he had been outmanoeuvred by foul play. "I may not be able to lie, but I prefer not to answer to that," he said at last.

I slouched my shoulders. "No answer _is_ an answer, " I said quietly, looked away from him and took another gulp of gin.

I heard him sigh and then the bed creak when he moved and seated himself behind me to take me in his arms, his long legs wrapped around mine. He took the glass from my hand and emptied it.

"Very well, " he said against my ear. "If you're asking me, if I would like to do with Mary Sibley what I intend to do with you, the answer is yes." He felt me stiffening in his arms and pulled me closer. "To her and to any other woman in this place or another. I thought I hated her at first, but I was only jelous, because I couldn't understand what my brother saw in her. But maybe it wasn't hate at all, but in fact- _lust_."

I struggled against his grip. This was more truth than I had wanted to learn and I felt hot tears burn in my throat.

As if reading my unspoken thoughts, he continued mercilessly: "Don't ask me, if you don't want to know. But know this..." His lips brushed the hairline on my temple ever so slightly. "If I were to choose," he whispered. "I wouldn't want it any other way. I don't want Mary Sibley or any other woman. I want _you_."

I swallowed hard, but couldn't prevent the tears from running down my cheeks and he brought his lips to my face and tasted them. "But you're scared." he noted, his voice cracking with a surprising tenderness. "No need to hide it. Just...just let me try something, if you don't mind."

 

I buried my face in his warm, wiry neck and breathed his scent in, which was perfectly human and masculine and still so distinctively and deliciously different from any other man's.

"Will it hurt?" I asked in a shaky little voice, before it occured to me how stupid this question was given my virginal state and his proportions- and how little consoling the answer would likely be in light of the fact, that he was not able to lie.

"It won't," he promised to my surprise."And now...close your eyes."

 

 

For a considerably long time nothing seemed to happen and I began to relax in his embrace, which was really all I needed for the moment. The warmth of his large body around me and the gin on my empty stomach made me feel light as a feather and very heavy at the same time, but it was a good, comforting feeling. My breathing eased like I was going to fall asleep.

And then there was a sound, very soft but steady, and a feeling like a small draught, a little cooling but not unpleasantly so, like a breeze of cool air on a hot summer day. Something brushed my face very softly, then vanished to come again, moving in rhythm with the draught.

It felt smooth, like silk, but much warmer... alive.

I opened my eyes. I was no longer on my bed in our house- or anywhere else, for that matter. There was nothing around me but a soft, diffuse light and...clouds?

 

I was _flying_.

Or rather, the man who still held me, was, and what I heard and felt was nothing else than the flap of enormous wings whose tips slightly brushed my face with their every move.

How was that even possible? Why, it mattered not, I decided in a rush of euphoric joy. The feeling was beyond words. I felt like I could do this forever and a day. We passed by clouds or flew right through them and they were incredibly fluffy, softer than cotton wool, fleeting as thoughts. I heard myself rejoice with delight. So this was, what clouds felt like?

We were flying deeper now, deeper and deeper towards a place, which looked familiar at first sight but was in fact nothing like the world I knew.

There were all kinds of trees and plants and flowers, as I could see when we came closer, but not of a kind I had ever seen before. It was hard to describe; when I tried to look at it closely, it seemed to be not simply trees or flowers, but rather trees and flowers in their most perfect state possible, an imagination of how they really wanted to be- with shapes and colours so overwhelming, that you could study them forever and would not be able to define their perfection, so beautiful, it was almost too much for the eye to grasp.

There was sound now, too, the soft chirping of birds which I could not see but was sure they must also be beautiful beyond description judged by the lovely sound of their voices, the steady, soothing humming of bees in the calyxes and the soft murmuring of a brook in the distance, all combined to a joyful, jubilant hymn on life.

 

We reached the ground and he gently let me down on the grass, or what I thought, must be grass, but it was moving beneath me like in an invisible breeze, an incredibly soft and comfortable carpet of fresh, sweet smelling green, consoling like the most tender embrace.

I laid back and I felt wonderful-stronger and fitter than I had ever felt, like I might get up and run for miles without getting tired, my whole body prickling with an excited energy, but at the same time I was totally relaxed and just as content to stay lying here in the grass and stare in wonder at all the beauty around me and then, at the figure who hovered above me like an apparition, his face somewhat familiar,yet unfathomable like everything else in this place and terrifying, terrifying in its beauty.

 

He was lying on me now and he was naked, except for his wings, and so was I. I could not remember how this had happened and neither did I care for it seemed perfecly right and natural as it was.

"Where are we?" I managed to ask, and the sound of my voice sounded strange to my own ears, too plain and inadequate to be heard in a place like this.

"Where I can never return to" the unearthly handsome creature above me said and the sadness in his beautiful voice made me want to cry for his loss. "I have forever lost the right to be here when I decided to trade eternal happiness for a will of my own. And now that you know this, and know what it is that I want- will you give it to me? Will you allow me to settle for the next best thing?"

I felt tears streaming down my face, and even the feeling of utter sadness was strangely delightful.

Was he serious? How could my pathetic body in any way substitute the loss of this wonderful, wonderful place? How could I possibly refuse to this lowest of requests?

The answer was simple; I couldn't and I wouldn't.

 

The angel smiled at me, when I willingly wrapped my legs around his hips.

He lowered his head towards me and his flowing mane of living embers danced around my face as he pulled me into a deep, seemingly endless kiss that promised more delightful and violent pleasures and made whatever fears or resistance still remained inside me vanish into a blazing, urging flood.

I felt his warm, gentle hands all over my body and the feeling of his silky skin on mine was almost too much to bear. When he rubbed his hardness against me I heard myself sob and beg for him to go on, to finally fill the emptiness inside me of which I had not even known it existed before I met him, and when he did, I felt in deed no pain at all, only a slight pressure, soon washed away by a feeling of pure, ecstatic pleasure, when he began to move inside me.

I opened my eyes and found his bright, sparkling ones locked with mine and hazy with the same lust I felt. For a moment my vision blurred and distorted and the beautiful features of my lover twisted into a devilish mask when he opened his mouth to answer my desperate groans. The heat and pressure inside me rose to an unbearable peak and the world around us flared up and vanished inside a greedy, all- consuming sea of flames.

I'm _dying_ , I thought. I'm dying and it feels good. The flames went higher and swallowed my screams.

 

When the fire finally died down we lay there for a long time and there was no sound but our breathing, the pounding of our hearts and the flap of his wings above us. At last, the wings came down on me and wrapped themselves around me. They were black, black as night, black as nothingness and when they touched me, my mind went dark.

 

 

 

When I opened my eyes again, it was to the realization that I was not only still alive, but also apparently back in my house and on my bed.

My body was still closely entwined with the one of my angelic-demonic lover, although now back in his comfortingly familiar human form, naked as I and bathed in sweat.

I could feel pain now, too, a dull throbbing in my abdomen, not entirely unpleasant even, more like the slight aftershock of an earthquake and completely insignificant in light of the wonders I had seen.

I brought my face closer to his in order to brush his parched lips with mine. "How do you feel?" he whispered in a hoarse voice.

"Beyond description" I murmured against his mouth. "And you?"

"A little- exhausted." he admitted with a groan.

I smiled and closed my eyes with a ravished smile. "It was all so- so _wonderful_ ," I whispered. "This place-" I frowned and shook my head. "But I can hardly remember anything in particular now, no matter how hard I try-it seems to slip away from me more by the moment-"

I felt his mouth against mine curl into a little smile. "That is because you are not allowed to see it at all...not as long as you live, that is. And showing it to you- and moreover, for a purpose like that - has probably doubled my punishment, too. But I guess, one eternity or two doesn't make much of a difference-"

"But- it _was_ real, wasn't it?" I asked. I couldn't believe how it could have _not_ been real, it had felt more real than anything, even though it was now fading away quickly like a dream by the light of a new day.

He shook his head with a sad smile. "It wasn't, not really. What you saw was just a fraction of my memory. I can never return to this place, as I said, but neither can I forget it. The memory is part of the punishment..." he grimaced. "The worst part, if you will. But-" he pulled me closer, when he saw my eyes well up with tears once more. "No need to feel sorry for me. I lost this place, because I was not willing to share it with you, with your kind, that is. So, in a way, I guess it is ironic, that I voluntarily showed it to you, now."

His smile broadened. " If only in order to make you voluntarily give me what I wanted. Seems I'm still mostly bad after all."

"Mostly" I agreed and kissed the corners of his mouth. "So- it has been done, then ?"

He smiled again and pressed himself against me so I could feel he was not quite as spent as he had claimed. "I should think so," he replied, before he rolled himself onto me in a swift movement. "But you're right. We should take no risks."

 

I thought I should disagree, but found that I did not want to. He was right. The end of the world could wait.


	5. Hell is Round the Corner

_Sunday_

 

 

As the night progressed, Beel and I made every effort to stretch the time we had together, literally put off the evil day as long possible.

We made love, then strengthened ourselves with the food Julie had kindly provided, then went right back to bed and made love again.

But eventually, even the supernatural powers of my angelic lover wore out, and by the early light of dawn, sated and exhausted, we fell asleep, our bodies still intertwined in a loving embrace.

This time my sleep was deep, dreamless and peaceful-at least, until it was rudely interrupted by a ferocious attack of fists against our front door, shortly followed by a voice I knew too well.

" _Marie_ !" I heard my sister's voice, shrill from anger or fear, or both. "It's me, Julie! Open up for God's sake!" she shouted, another drumroll of knocks emphasizing her words.

Reluctantly, I disentangled myself from Beel's arms, struggled to get out of bed and stumbled towards the door before she could break it down.

"Open the fucking door! What the hell are you doing, _bathe_ again? I know how you must feel, really, I do but I live here, _too_ , and I'm telling you, I'm so fed up with knocking on my own door like a bloody _peddler_ -"

Julie fell silent the moment I unlocked and opened the door and gaped at me in my torn and blood-splattered nightgown.

" _God_ , Marie-" she gasped. She was carrying a basket and almost dropped it at the sight of me. "What-what happened to you? Are you- alright?"

She made a hesitant step towards me, but then she stopped abruptly, wrinkled her nose and sniffed.

"I'm fine, Julie." I said calmly as she pushed herself past me into the house.

"Yea, I see that," she murmured and looked over the room to the bed, or rather the battlefield that had become of it- the beddings and various pieces of clothes scattered all about the floor and the table next to the bed, where a still life of various plates and bowls with the leftovers of our evening meal arranged around a half- empty gin bottle made a feast for the flies.The sheets on the bed were soaked in sweat, blood and other liquids and the whole room smelled like a mixture of a gin house and a cheap brothel after a wild orgy.

The large figure of the man on the bed, wearing nothing but a towel he had casually wrapped around his hips and a broad grin on his face, rose unsteadily and walked over to her. "Julie" he said and took the basket from her hand, in which she carried a few buns and honey cakes for breakfast. "How nice."

He pulled me with him and, while Julie still stood and stared, sat back on the bed where he immediately pounced on the food, only now and then uttering sounds of delight and feeding me with little bits of it like a pet.

My sister watched the scene for a moment- the two people in front of her so lost in the food and each other that they seemed to have forgotten about her presence entirely, then she gave a deep sigh and walked past us to the window and tore it wide open.

"Well, don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you, Marie,"she announced, sounding anything but. "It's not as if I was worried _sick_ for you when I couldn't find you yesterday. Only searched the woods for _hours,_ didn't I. Before I ran back to Isaac and begged him for help." She snorted. " But he told me not to worry.Told me to leave you alone to 'get used to the idea'. Which you _did_ , apparently."

She glared at us. " Might have considered to let some air in though. This place smells like somebody _died_ in here."

I knew, I should feel guilty for having distressed her. Part of me did. But then, her nagging voice threatened to disturb the state of blissful unconcern I wasn't ready to leave just yet. Besides, my otherwise so frivilous sister suddenly sounded like some embittered spinster- and more than a little jelous. I had to suppress a smile.

"Sorry, Julie. " I said. "It's just- you know- we just didn't have the _time_ -" My lover smiled at me and leaned over to lick the honey from my lips.

Julie cleared her throat. "That's fine, just ignore me." With a disgusted frown she picked up the dirty sheets with her fingertips to throw them into the washing basket.

"And I really don't want to be the one to break the bad news but today is Sunday, remember? _Black Sunday_. End of the world and all, ring any bells?"

She saw Beel eye's wander to the bottle on the table, but before he could reach for it she resolutely picked it up and stowed it away. "I know, Julie, " I smiled, my cheeks full with honey cake. "And I merely took your advice. Never worry about anything until you absolutely have to-"

Julie knitted her brow and rested her hands on her hips. "Fine, " she replied flippantly. "Please, don't let me disturb you! I guess I'll just tell the others you had other plans-"

Beel looked up and held her gaze with his piercing bright- blue eyes. "You needn't worry," he said solemnly. "I will deal with my brother. He won't realize his evil plans."

"See?" I smiled and leaned against him. "Everything's good."

Julie's frown deepened. I could tell what she must be thinking. Was I drunk? It was very unlike me to be so careless-usually I was the spoilsport and it didn't please her at all to see our roles reversed. But after last night, everything seemed possible. My life had just taken a u-turn to the better and I was unable-and unwilling- to believe, things might end up anything but well after all the joy I had experienced. Beel would defeat his brother; he had to, everything else was unthinkable, we were too happy and I loved him too much.

"Well, I'm glad to hear this," Julie addressed the Sentinel, her voice dripping sarcasm. "And I beg your pardon, I must have missed it, but-did you say _how_ exactly you were going to accomplish that?" Her gaze flew over the blood stained sheets. "The ritual is no longer an option, that's for sure."

"There's no need for rituals or witchcraft," the Sentinel growled contemptously. "I know I can fight him without that."

"How would you know that?"

He shrugged. "Because I have to." His eyes burned darkly. "And after all, I won't be alone. Once my brothers are free- Sammael may be stronger than me or any of us, but he cannot stand against _all_ of us."

"Oh, _right_ , "Julie sneered. "I forgot. We won't have the pleasure to be ruled by only one demon but a whole _legion_."

She bent over and grabbed herself one of the remaining buns. "Why,now I definitely feel better. Anyway, " she said, chewing. "You two might consider to put on something slightly more- _appropriate_. And you really _should_ take a bath-" she shook her head when this made us giggle like teenagers. "And what's so damn funny about _that_ now? That smell of you alone could scare off an entire army of darkness-"

Dismissively, she waved her hand at the half-naked man in front of her. " Go, make yourself useful and fetch some water. You know where the well is-" She shoved the reluctant Sentinel firmly towards the door.

Once he was out, I took her hands and smiled at her. "I was in heaven last night, Julie. In _heaven_!" She waved her hand. "Yea, I know, but-"

"No, you don't." I laughed. "I was. _There_. _Literally_."

"Whatever," she murmured, then she looked at me and sighed. "You _are_ aware, this isn't going to work, are you?"

Defiantly I crossed my arms and shot her a cold glance. "You're only jelous because for once not all the good things are happening to you," I grumbled.

Julie frowned and shook her head. "Don't be stupid, that's not it," she replied a little huffily. "Think about it! Assuming your Beel is really going to open a gate to hell and free his brothers- and I'm not saying I'm convinced he _can_ , do you really _want_ that? I mean, _sure_ , perhaps he is going to make you his- queen of the damned or whatever, but- just imagine what it would mean for the rest of Salem! To be ruled by not only _one_ dark lord but instead by-I don't know-hundreds of them? A _million_? How could that by any means be the best case scenario?"

She paused, when Beel returned with two brimful water buckets. "Good, place them next to the hearth, " she ordered. "We need at least twenty more." He glared at her but obeyed wordlessly.

Julie walked over to the hearth and started a fire. My gaze followed my lover's large shape out of the door. "But he's not as we thought he was," I said." He is- _different._ And his brothers may be just like him- how could you tell? They have suffered so much, Julie, only because they wanted to be _free_ \- can you really blame them for that?"

I took my sister's hands and continued persuadingly. "He says, he can understand us now. He is able to see the- the _good_ things about humanity. And he can teach his brothers to see them as well-"

Julie raised an eyebrow."Well, I'm certainly looking forward to _that_." she replied dryly. Then she sighed. "Marie, I'm not saying that it wasn't possible. But I'm quite certain, _she_ won't like the idea-"

 

 _She_. Mary Sibley.

"I'm not afraid of her. " I said and I meant it. "I'm no longer afraid of _anything at all._ "

 

 

I was no longer as confident, when the time for the meeting with the others came and Julie and I, both bathed, combed and dressed in our Sunday's Best ( more than a little ironic if you asked me, but Julie strongly believed in the importance of outward appearances no matter the situation ), made our way through the woods in an ominous dusk twilight of what was supposed to be the last day of the world.

I was feeling sober again and last night's events had faded into something like a distant dream. Had any of all this really happened, I kept wondering as we walked without talking, broken branches creaking eerily under our feet in otherwise sinister silence. My body assured me, it _had_ , I could still feel him inside me with every step I took, his hands all over my body, his mouth buried into mine.

I kept telling myself, fate could impossibly be so cruel to end my life now it had just begun to be good, but the thought was not as comforting as it should be. My lover had not been on good terms with his heavenly father for quite some time and it was well known, that God wasn't exactly fond of witches either.

And if I had not been scared in the morning, with the soothing presence of Beel's strong, protective body next to mine, I certainly was now. I was alone, except for my sister next to me, nothing but two young women, utterly human and utterly powerless against the forces we were supposed to fight, and hell was waiting just around the corner.

 

 

At last we reached the clearing, surrounded by old, dark, knotted oak trees, whose outlines shone dimly in torchlight. A slight wind made the leaves of the trees rustle, it was the only sound to be heard. I felt a lump in my throat. Whatever happened here tonight, the world we knew would never be the same again after it.

Five hooded shapes awaited us in the shadows, and one of them, as I noticed with a small pang in my chest, much taller than the others around him, his face once more hidden beneath the hood of his dark cloak. He nodded a silent greeting at us, while one of the other figures, chubby,bearded and visibly impatient, shifted from one foot to another.

"You're late," Cotton Mather complained. "Mary and the dark lord will be here soon. And we have to- get over with that ritual before they arrive, don't we?" He turned to his wife, the small, yet visibly pregnant, veiled figure next to him. "What's next, Anne? Do you know what to do? Or shall they just-"

He cleared his throat, visibly embarassed. Isaac and John Alden looked from the two women who had just arrived back to the tall figure of the Sentinel, who pulled down his hood and returned their questioning glances from cold, bright eyes.

He looked so grave and awe-inspiring that I found it hard to believe he was the same man who had made love to me and whispered sweet words into my ear all night.

"There will be no ritual, " he announced in a dark, low voice and I noticed how John Alden and Isaac exchanged a quick, knowing look. "All we need is one thing."

The Sentinel turned to the fifth figure in the circle, who had stayed silent and unmoving until now and made a commanding gesture at him. "Give it to me."

"Yes, master," the voice of Salem's barber said submissively, before he hurried to produce a small vial from under his cloak, whose content shone in a luminescent red in the twilight. He handed it over to the Sentinel who held it up before his eyes with a grim smile.

"God is my witness- and never have those words been more fit to its meaning- _I kept my promise_ ," he whispered wide-eyed, before he raised his arm and threw the vial to the ground,where it cracked open and spilled its content to the ground, the lurid red burning into the forest ground and slowly transforming into a blazing, glistening head- high portal, so bright it made everyone close their eyes to escape the blinding light.

When I dared to open up mine again, I could make out shadowed, vaguely manlike figures on the other side of the portal, mouths gaping wide open in soundless, tortured cries,claw-like hands desperately reaching out for escape.

" _Join me now,my brothers,_ " the Sentinel called out loudly. "The time of your suffering is over, but we still have work to do tonight."

There was a horrified silence for a moment, in which everyone stared in shocked, breathless anticipation of whatever might cross the burning portal- and then it was suddenly broken by a ripple of mirthful laughter.

 

 

The Sentinel turned his head in surprise, and so did we, when a small shape materialized from out of the shadows, a boy, _the_ boy, the dark lord himself, and next to him, his two companions, his most trusted servant Sebastian von Marbourg to his left and to his right, a very pale Mary Sibley, more beautiful than ever in her fair, lavish wedding dress.

"And just in time, I see, " the boy smiled, before he raised his hand and casually waved it at the portal, causing the creatures behind it to cry out in raging anger, when they suddenly found themselves confronted with an invisible barrier they couldn't cross.

 

"My lord, I did as you asked me," Anne Hale stumbled forward and attempted an awkward genuflection despite her huge belly. "I told you everything-everything they planned-about the ritual and all. Now keep your word and spare me and my baby, I beg you-" she sobbed out.

"Anne-" her husband gasped out and stared at his wife in disbelief.

"Oh yes, you did, " the boy confirmed graciously. His dark eyes sparkled. He took a step forward and patted Anne's bowed head as if she were a dog. "And quite unnecessarily so."

He looked up to the Sentinel, before, to my great horror, his eyes fixated on me. "There will be no such ritual. I'm afraid, they fooled you, dear Anne."

He raised his hand and I heard Julie cry out, as I suddenly felt myself lifted up and dragged towards him by a magnetic force, until I found myself in the suprisingly strong grip of the boy, who was of course no boy in the first place. He lowered his head and his nostrils flared when he breathed me in. He wrinkled his nose.

"This little witch isn't even a virgin," he spat contemptously. "She is nothing but a dirty whore, brimful with your seed, brother, and she's got your stink all over her pathetic body,"

It felt horribly wrong to hear those dirty words in that high-piched, childish voice of his and even more so, to feel his small hands moving in a  very unchildlike way over my body and making me squirm with disgust and fear alike.

The Sentinel stood frozen in place like a pillar of salt. "She's worthless, just as you say," he said blankly. "Let her go. She is of no use for you."

The boy's grip around me tightened and I heard his jaunty laughter ring in my ears. "No use?" he said gleefully. He looked me over with a naughty smile. "She's not exactly pretty, true enough" he confirmed. "But you care for her, don't you? No need to deny it, I can see your torments at the thought that I might hurt her," He let his hand run across my throat. It felt unpleasantly cold and slack against my skin, like a dead fish.

"You're such a disgrace, brother," the boy said with utmost contempt. "Wasn't it _you_ who told me I was corrupted by this pathetic meat suit? _You_ condemned me for not killing my mother, and now it has taken you-what? a week? two weeks? -to fall for every poor pleasure humanity has to offer, including this," he pulled me closer and his saliva sprayed my face. "this picture of misery of a skinny bitch?"

His fingers burrowed into the skin of my throat and squeezed tight. I gasped and fought against his grip, but to no avail, it was as hard and adamant as steel.

" _NO!_ " the Sentinel cried out. He stretched out his arm and with a jerk I was torn from the boy's grip towards my lover, my feet swinging only inches above the ground but unable to reach it, my body hovering helplessly in the air between the two in the middle of the clearing. The boy had his arm outstretched now, too, and the two of them were facing each other in a soundless struggle of forces, Beel's features distorted with the strain, his brother's relaxed, his lips curled into a patronising smile.

"You want her?" he asked. "Try harder, then. I haven't even started."

His smile deepened as he reached out with his other arm and an invisible whiplash ripped up my dress and the skin beneath it from my right shoulder down to my navel. It happened so fast that I didn't even feel pain and only gasped in surprise, then a second blow hit the other side of my upper body. This time it burned like fire and I couldn't help crying out.

Julie, with a desperate scream, and Isaac had started to run towards me, but at another casual wave of the boy's hand stopped dead in their tracks, frozen in place, unable to move.

" _Stop_!" the voice of my lover cracked with pain. His eyes were wide open, sweat ran in small rivulets down his temples and his arm shook with the strain to pull me to him. The boy laughed at him. "You can't stop me, brother. You're _weak_. Always been. Four thousend years in hell were not enough to make you stronger. It's a shame, really."

The smile left his face and gave way to an angry frown. "You could have been my second in command. You could have had all the drinks you like and any whore you wanted, but _no_ -you chose to plot against me, _me_ , instead." He shook his head in disbelief. "You must have known you could never win. Why would you try?"

"You know why, "the Sentinel replied through clenched teeth, the effort of trying to drag me to him clearly made it hard for him to speak. "Freedom," he gasped out. "We rebelled against our father for one reason-to be _free_. We did not suffer all these years to make _you_ God instead."

"Free?" the boy echoed, his voice dripping contempt. "You don't even know the meaning of that word. You and your brothers spent _centuries_ weeping about what we lost. Enough to make that red mercury. _Angel's tears_ ,"he spat. "But that's what makes the difference, you see? I never shed a single tear about anything-or anyone. You consider youself free because you rose up against our father- and against me now? You're _not_. You already enslaved youself again," he looked at me with an ironically raised eyebrow. "And to the most worthless subject imaginable, on top of that."

His eyes met his brother's again. "But I can free you from _that._ Least thing I can do-"

 

I took a deep, painful breath, when I saw his hand slowly raise in my direction once more. Tried to convince myself that I was ready to die. Life had not always been exactly a bed of roses, true, but last night had compensated a lot. Would I see paradise again, if I died now? I looked at Beel and tried to capture his beloved features in my mind for all times, then I closed my eyes and waited for the death blow.

I heard him scream and then, suddenly, the sound of a loud, angry hum. The forces that held my body up between the two brothers, ceased all at once and I slumped to the hard ground.

Beel held both his arms towards his opponent now,they shook violently and the small shape of the boy disappeared under a furious, black swarm. He let out an oddly childish sounding cry of surprise and waved his arms to get rid of the insects who covered his body like a living, humming suit.

I struggled to my hands and knees and saw the silhouette of the boy twitch and convulse, as he fought doggedly against the relentless insects that attacked him. At last he uttered an angry scream and shook them off and a pattering rain of lifeless chitin shells hit the ground beneath him.

His face was red and swollen from countless bits and stitches, and very angry. He coughed and choked out a mouthful of bugs but when he turned to his brother again his dark eyes glowed in triumph.

"Your pathetic insects can't harm me, brother, " he snarled. "But I'm tired of your tricks and games now. The hour is near. Black Sunday has come to see me rise to the king of this place- and the whole world."

 

He reached out and took Mary Sibley by her arm to pull her back to his side again. "Me and my queen, that is. Together we will incite a war like this world has never seen one before. I don't need your help or the help of any of our brothers." He twisted his features into a broad, evil grin. "And since you care for them so much, I think now it's time for you to join them again. After all- we can't let this portal go unused."

He raised his hand again and I watched in horror how the figure of my lover was helplessly drawn towards the burning portal. Our eyes met and his were so full of utter despair that it made my heart break just to look at him. It was clear, he had given all he had to stop his brother- all colour had left his face, his eyes were blood-shot and his otherwise strong body as limp and weak as a rag doll's- but it had not been enough.

"Forgive me," he whispered hoarsely through bloodied lips. "I love you, Marie."

 

The boy smiled scornfully when he watched the tall frame float slowly, yet inevitably towards the portal. "Touching, really," he sneered in his high-pitched child's voice. "Love. Something you can entertain our brothers with for the next four thousand years in hell,"

"Love," Mary Sibley suddenly echoed next to him.

She reached out and tenderly stroked the boy's shock of black hair. "You have no idea what that is, am I right, my Lord, my son?"

Surprised he looked up to her and she smiled back at him, as warm as any loving mother. "And you will never know. How sad that is. You have all the power of two worlds to be yours to command, but the greatest power of all you will never know-"

Her white fingers caressed his cheek and a tear fell from her dark eye and dropped down his face. "You will never know what it means to love- and to be loved. My poor, poor baby-"

 

"Mother?" the boy stared at her, confused and suddenly nothing but a frightened child, his little voice shaking uncertainly.

And then I remembered what Beel had said to me. The boy had not allowed him to kill his mother after her attempt to end his life; punish her, yes, but not kill her. Somewhere in the black, rotten depth of his heart he carried a fondness for the woman who had brought him into the world, as sick and twisted as it may be. He didn't only want her to witness his greatest triumph, he wanted to share it with her, wanted her to be proud of him as any child would.

If the dark lord cared for anyone apart from himself it was this woman, it was his greatest weakness, maybe his only one.

 

Mary Sibley's eyes met the Sentinel's above the boy's head. "Love," she repeated in an imploring voice that seemed to be directed straight at him. "Love conquers all. Even hell itself."

The Sentinel held her gaze for a moment, unblinking, then he nodded slowly. "You know what to do" Mary Sibley whispered. "Do it now, then. Do it-for love."

 

And then I knew it too. "No," I whispered and shook my head. I struggled to my feet, ignoring the pain where my blood-soaked dress stuck to the raw flesh of my upper body, and stumbled towards my lover, who now stood close enough to the blazing portal that his features were bathed in luminescent red. "No," I begged."Take me with you."

He shook his head at me in wonderment. "I showed you heaven and you would still follow me- there?" he said softly." Be sure, this thought will comfort me for the next four thousand years and more."

Julie's eyes moved rapidly from me to the man in front of the portal. "No," she cried out. "Don't let her do this!"

The Sentinel cast a quick sideglance at her. "Of course I won't." he said with a sad smile. "This place is not for her."

He raised his hand and another cloud of insects covered me now, stopping my pace, their humming no longer sounding angry but soothing, like a many-voiced lullaby.

My lover looked at me once more and smiled, then his features turned blank as he reached out his hand towards his brother again, who still stood paralysed next to his mother.

"Time to go home," he said softly and the boy's body was lifted up into the air in a heartbeat, while he was struggling and screaming for his mother, and then suddenly he held him in his arms, took a deep breath and jumped right into the portal.

Which blazed up in a blinding red flash and to a horrifying choire of screams, before it began to flicker and blur and fade out, until nothing but a faint, sulphur-like smell bore witness that it had ever been there at all.

 

 

 

 

_One week later ( a Sunday like any other )_

 

It is Sunday again.

Though blessedly unaware of their almost- extinction, Salem's people run to curch as they always do and praise the Lord for his endless mercy.

Everyone agrees that Cotton Mather has never before given such a fervent sermon and there is not a dry eye left in the house of God this day.

My eyes, however, have run out of tears. I am the secret heroine of Salem now, my wounds silent witnesses of this latest act in the ancient, neverending fight of good versus evil, and although I know they will fade over time, I'm sure my heart will never heal.

Julie and Isaac are going to get married as soon as possible and I'm happy for them. Happy all the same to have the house for me alone then, to bury myself in my grief. Julie tries to comfort me as good as she can, telling me I will get over it, that it's not the end of the world- which is actually true- but her gentle, well-meant worlds run right off me like water on a duck's plumage.

Mary Sibley had generously offered that I could live with her in her big house, at her costs, for as long as I wished, but I have politely and coolly declined. Of course, she takes all the credit for the fortunate turn of events, when listening to her, she had planned it exactly that way all along. But I don't care.

I have no other desire than to die and join the one, who I know is waiting for me on the other side. I'm going to wait until Julie is married and then I'll do it.

Until then, all I want is to be left alone to the deceiving peace of the empty house and a self-imposed diet of mostly gin.

And sometimes, with the exact dose of the burning liquid, I can almost make myself believe, I was in this beautiful place again, together with him, could feel his wings caress my face once more, soft as a breeze.

Most of the time, though, it's just sinking into merciful oblivion.

 

 

Dreams are all I have left now. Sometimes, my dreams are sweet, sometimes they are terrible. Sometimes they are both. And sometimes, I even dream when I'm awake.

 

It is Sunday. I'm alone at the house, as I am most of the time, now.

Julie and Isaac have been leaving for church together, the respectable and soon-to-be married inhabitants of Salem they now are.

There's a knock at the door.

Unwilling to get up, I frown in my sleep.

Then it dawns on me-I'm sure I left the door unlocked last night. There's no need to lock it any longer.

My heart takes a sudden leap. I desperately want to get up now but as it always is in dreams, I seem to be tied to the bed, my limbs heavy as lead, unable to move, unable to go to the door and open it.

"Who is it?" I hear myself ask, my voice still hoarse from sleep. There is no answer. But of course, I know who is waiting for me outside that door. If only I was able to get there and open it.

 

At last, I manage to struggle to my feet. I can hear something like a song, a soft, distant hum in my ears, as I slowly move towards the door and now I know, I've had this dream before. Know that I'm going to wake up the moment I open it.

 

I open the door. Glaring sunlight blinds my eyes but there's no mistake about the unique tall, broad- shouldered shape standing in front of me. I hold a hand to my heart and catch my breath, but this time, I don't wake up.

I haven't been sleeping.

"I'm back," my lover says with a shy litte smile. "Aren't you going to let me in?" And then I collapse against his broad chest and he catches me and carries me back in.

 

 

I open my eyes. I'm lying on my bed. A violent sob climbs up my throat. So it has been another dream after all.

I turn my head and look into iridescent blue eyes.

Beel's smile turns into a frown when he sees my tears. "There are many things I still have to learn about humanity," he says before he takes me in his arms and cradles me softly. "But one thing I know by now. We tend to cry when we're happy, right?"

I swallow my tears and raise my face to his. " _We_ -?" I repeat incredulously, when the full understanding sinks in. " _How_ -?"

"As it turned out,I am no longer welcome in hell after what I've done." Beel explains. He hangs his head."I have failed my brothers terribly-and my only comfort is that they will have all the time in the world now to take out their anger on Sammael. He no longer reigns in hell, I can tell you that much- as for me, well,"

He sighs and shrugs his broad shoulders. "It seems I saved the world from my brother's reign of terror and now I'm no longer fit for hell, but I couldn't simply return to paradise either, my father was _very_ clear on that. I think I gave him quite a challenge. The crimes I have committed against him can never be forgiven, but my punishment has been-well- _delayed_. For the short period of time a human life lasts, that is."

I shake my head and laugh through my tears. "Are you seriously telling me you are _human_ now? That God has sent you back here somehow-back to me? He can't be so cruel after all then, can he?"

"Oh, I don't know." he replies with a crooked smile." I know him well. I'm quite certain, he reckons I'm going to throw away this second chance as well."

He runs his hands down my back and pulls me closer to him. "This body is all I have now, and he is well aware of its weaknesses, its proneness to all the sins this world has to offer- he created it that way, after all," He kisses me and smiles again when he rolls onto me and settles between my legs.

"Let's prove him how right he is, shall we? I really wouldn't want to disappoint him again."

 

Needless to say, I have no objections.

I don't even know it yet, but there's a new life growing inside my womb, a child that has been conceived when my lover was still an angel and it will be the first of a powerful new race that is meant to rule the world.

 

Because the battle never ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, well, that's it. I'm not good with notes. Thanks so much for reading!


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